


The Mother and the Father

by Lalelu900



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:28:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalelu900/pseuds/Lalelu900
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermes and May after the Titan war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mother and the Father

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Percy Jackson universe or any of the characters. They all belong to Rick Riordan.  
> Reviews appreciated.

The mother stood in the kitchen, staring into the night. For the last few days it had stormed as if it was the end of the world. The streets had been flooded, the sound of the rumbling thunder had reminded her of canons firing and the sound of the volley on the pavement was just like the sound of a thousand machine guns. But now there was only this horrible graveyard silence, the silence that told her that the battle had been fought but not which side had won.  
She was certainly not the perfect American middle-class mom: Eventhough she was young of age her hair was white and it was sticking up all around her head as if she had been struck by lightning. Her eyes only added to the image, as they were shining with a manic green glow. Maybe she was not the perfect mom, maybe even a crazy one but she was a mom nonetheless and right about now she was waiting for her son to return.  
She hadn’t seen him in a while, her sweet boy with the sandy blond hair and wonderful blue eyes and his adorable bright laugh. But still she always kept his favourite food around: Cans of kool-aid, trays full of burnt cookies and platters with peanut butter sandwiches, some fresh and some already musty, filled every inch of the kitchen. She always wanted to be sure that everything was ready for his return. And he would return, he just had to! Afterall he had said so, when he had left for school, years ago. “I’ll be back for lunch, mom!“, he had said. And now lunch was ready for him, always.  
She was also waiting for the father of her poor boy, for the only one who understood. His pictures could be found all over the house. No photos but drawings and illustrations cut out from commercials and books, all showing the winged shoed messenger god. She always thought it important that a son knew his father. Due tot he fact that the father could not be around, the pictures would have to do.  
The mother turned away from the window and started to spread peanut butter on an other slice of bread, quietly smiling to herself. Soon her son would be home, soon they would have lunch together. Suddenly her body stiffened, her eyes started to glow in a bright green and her voice rose to an agonized cry: “My boy, my poor child! Such a horrible fate! Oh, my poor sweet boy!“. Then as soon as it has come, the moment passed away, her body went limp and she started to fall, the knive which she had used for the sandwiches still in her hand. She surely would have hurt herself if not for the man catching her in his arms, taking the knive from her hand and putting it on the counter, cradling her head to his shoulder.  
He had appeared out of nowhere, all handsome with his salt and pepper colored hair and blue eyes. Noone would have thought he had a place in this untidy, filthy house with this manic eyed woman but from the way he held her carefully in his arms, caressed tenderly her shoulders and the look in his eyes, one could see that he truely loved her.  
For a long time they just stood there, taking comfort in each other and when the May Castellan looked up at Hermes her eyes were clearer than ever and her smile full of relief. In this moment it was obvious how beautiful she once had been. She reached up and took Hermes cheeks between her palms. “I was worried about you.“, she whispered, “I am so glad to see that your fine. So did you win? Is the war over? Are you safe now?“ “I am, May. We all are. The titans were defeated, Typhon was slain, victory was claimed.“ But there was not the smallest trace of happiness in his eyes, not a bit of victory. “He is dead, isn’t he? Luke is dead?“, the mother asked. “He killed himself in order to defeat Kronos. He died the death of a hero, he will be sent to Elysium.“ “I know, I saw it. I saw it a hundred times and still I always thought that he would return to me.“  
May Castellan lowered her eyes and when she raised them up to meet Hermes‘ again, they were clouded over again. „Hermes!“, she cried out as if the previous conservation had not happened, “How nice of you to stop by. See, lunch is all ready. If you wait until Luke is here, we can eat together. You should see him, Hermes. You can be so proud of him. He will be here soon, he promised. Then you’ll see for yourself.“ With that words, she went over to the window again, staring into the darkness, waiting.  
Hermes closed his eyes for a second, swallowing down the tears, willing himself to be strong for her. Forcing himself not to lash out, not to shake her, not to scream at her. He wanted so badly for her to heal, to return to her old self but he knew this would not happen, not once. He took another moment for himself then he went to May and put his arm around her. “I am proud“, he told her truthfully “I am very proud.“ And eventhough he knew Luke was dead, he found himself staring into the darkness, waiting for his son to appear out of it. And there they stood, mother and father, waiting for Luke Castellan, the son who would never return to them.  
The end


End file.
